Merely a Stage...
by zeldazonk
Summary: It's 1902. Christian goes to the theater with some friends...now it's done.
1. Act 1

Author's Note: I was stuck on Crazy Love and waiting for my turn to write in the two chapter fics I am writing with Hannah (She's a Star) and Madi (Sugar Princess)/Hannah, so I just came up with this idea...thanks so much to my girlies, The Moulin Rouge Molls (Nana and Madi), and to the Academy, and the Association for Silent Films, and I'm getting carried away with myself, so here it is.   
  
Oh yes- if you could help me think of a good title, please do so. It'd be much appreciated.   
  
January 1902  
  
  
"Please, Christian, come out of your shell and with us to the theater!" The voices of Stuart, Gregory, and Marcus, Christian's three best friends, rang out into his apartment.   
The theater. Satine had loved the theater. And so had Toulouse. Both were gone to him. "I can't." He made a weak excuse.  
"Why not?"  
"Because...I'm...working."   
"You're not working, Christian. You haven't touched your typewriter in weeks. Not after the success of your book. Now scrub up, shave, and get dressed. You're coming with us. We're going to see 'The Shopkeeper's Daughter.'"   
After much prodding, Christian finally gave in. Humming the song he'd written for Satine, he ran the sharp razor and shed the whiskers that had been neglected for a few days. Christian smiled at his reflection in the mirror, quite pleased. What a bar of soap and a razor could do to a man! He dressed in his clean, crisp tuxedo and let Marcus loan him a top hat. He hadn't been clothed like this since...since Satine. That thought was instantly sobering, and upon noticing, Gregory shoved a cigar into Christian's hand. "For your spirits." He grinned. "Cheer up, Chris. It's just one night."   
"You can come back and wallow in your self-pity tomorrow. Have a good time," Stuart teased.   
Christian smiled. "I'll try."  
  
The past two years had been quite uneventful and then quite eventful. After Satine's death, Christian had written his book. His opus, his masterpiece. It had gone over quite well in Paris, mostly to those who had frequented the Moulin Rouge or at least known of it. Harold Zidler and his clan of can-can girls had left, leaving the place deserted. It was like a graveyard full of drunken Bohemians and loose boards.   
After selling his book, Christian had received quite a bit of money that he used to buy himself a new apartment. He found a new circle of friends-the Bohemians of the Rouge had become a bunch of hazy drunks-and a steady job. Life had begun to go on normally again. Toulouse, who had been a frequent visitor at Christian's new home, suddenly was confined to a sanitarium. And when the artist went back to his family home, Christian knew it was the end. Toulouse died in September of 1901, sending the poet back into a deep depression. He hadn't even said goodbye.   
But with time, all wounds heal. Except for the deep wound that had been made after Satine died. Nothing could heal that. Christian's friends tried to set him up with their pretty female friends, but he wanted nothing to do with them. It was only Satine, and only Satine for the rest of his life.   
"She's dead," they would complain. "You need to move on, Chris." And then they'd shove bubbly Lizzie in his face, hoping for just a little change in his sullenness.   
"I can't. Not now. You don't understand; you've never loved like this before."  
Sometimes, he felt sorry for the girls they'd introduce him to. The poor things were roughly pushed away, for Christian wanted nothing to do with them.   
  
  
And now they were on their way to see 'The Shopkeeper's Daughter,' a musical comedy that had just begun its run. Three pretty, giggling girls, clad in bright outfits like the Diamond Dogs used to wear, followed Christian's friends like obedient puppy dogs. Everyone was laughing and making merry, drinking hearty ale and smoking cigars. Everyone but Christian, who was haunted by the thoughts of Satine. Theaters always made him think of her.   
  
That day, the night of Spectacular, Spectacular, had been so overwhelming. He'd reclaimed her love again and then lost her. And sobbed on the stage for what seemed like hours, pretending he was still holding her. They'd had to pry her body from him only moments after she died. Her body hadn't been cold yet. And he never saw her again; Christian couldn't bring himself to go to her funeral. "It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all," Toulouse tried to console. Harold, trying to make up for everything he'd done wrong, sent Christian Satine's pet bird, the bird he'd loved and cherished until it died. Died like Satine. Died like the leaves and the Moulin Rouge.   
  
"Do you like theater, Christian?" Theodora Cox, the young woman accompanying Stuart, asked, cocking her blonde head to the side and surveying him with glittering eyes.  
"Our buddy Christian loves the theater." Gregory cut in, smiling almost maliciously at his friend.  
"He wrote a show once." Marcus added. Of all Christian's friends, Marcus was most like the poet. He had grown up much the same way as Christian: overbearing father with a religious fanaticism, a father who wanted his son to inherit the family business.   
"You did?" Kathleen O'Hara, a vivacious Irish girl with wild red hair, tilted her head in the same direction as Theodora.  
"Once. At the Moulin Rouge."  
"Didn't that place go under after the death of one of the whores?" Theodora asked.  
That stung. "She wasn't exactly a whore..."  
"What was she then? A saint?"  
"Her name was Satine. I knew her. She was a lovely girl."  
"What was your play called, Christian?" Kathleen inquired.  
"Spectacular, Spectacular. A truly Bohemian dream."  
"Oh yes, Bohemians," Kathleen sniffed. "Those absinthe addicts."  
At this moment, Christian hated all upper class British girls. They were aloof and snobbish, only caring about their money, how much their partner was worth, and what he could give to her.   
"Many of those absinthe addicts were my friends. And many were very talented. Have you ever heard of the late Toulouse-Lautrec, Dora?"  
"Can't say I have."  
"I didn't think so." Christian leaned back in his seat and looked out the carriage window, seething with anger.   
  
Christian couldn't help loving the actor's world. If he hadn't been a writer, an actor would have been his calling. How glamorous they all seemed. In his tuxedo and top hat, he did feel alive again. Christian hadn't felt this alive since her death. They purchased their tickets and sat down in the soft, blue velvet chairs, waiting for the dark blue curtains to open.   
"Who's starring in this?" Christian leaned over the dark head of Holly Sewell, Marcus's fiancée, and asked his friend.  
"Um, Marshall Peck and a new girl, someone that hasn't been onstage here before."   
"This should be interesting."   
"I'm sure it will be." Holly smiled sympathetically at Christian, revealing straight white teeth-a strange thing for a British girl. Christian did like Holly. She was a sweet thing, nicer than the other two girls that had accompanied them.   
  
Finally, the lights dimmed. The curtain rose, revealing a stage set to look like a marketplace. Marshall Peck, in all his leading-man glory, was playing the role of David Percy, the town hero.   
For most of the first act, Peck bantered with the shopkeeper, a graying old man who looked like Harold Zidler. (Christian was sure, however, that it wasn't.) Obviously, the character of David Percy was in love with the shopkeeper's daughter, who had yet to make her appearance.   
Christian was rather bored. The comic lines were well written, but this was no Spectacular, Spectacular.   
  
His thoughts drifted back to Satine. She would have been wonderful in this role, he guessed. She had been such a wonderful actress! And all of her talents had been wasted on the Moulin Rouge.   
Finally, after a musical number between the shopkeeper and David Percy, the shopkeeper's daughter, Madeline, took the stage, waltzing in with a rosy parasol and roses tucked in her hair, looking like a mythical fairy goddess. "Well, David Percy!" She rang out, smiling brightly.   
  
The actress playing Madeline had long, semi-curly golden hair and was very tall; almost taller than Marshall Peck. "This must be the new girl," Marcus commented.   
"She's pretty." Holly approved. "And she's a good singer, too."  
"Very good." Christian agreed. "She sounds remarkably like..."  
No. It wasn't Satine. Satine was dead. In a grave. She had died of tuberculosis almost three years ago. But this actress, she sounded exactly like her. Even their movements were alike. Only their hair was different. Whereas Satine's had been auburn, this woman's was blonde. It couldn't be her. Maybe he was imagining things. Hallucinating. Christian wanted to believe that this was Satine so badly that anything was possible. But of course she was dead. Satine had died on the stage during Spectacular, Spectacular. In his arms, too, which could only verify the fact.   
"Can I see those, please?" He asked Holly. She handed him her opera glasses and he peered into them.   
In the opera glasses, she saw a reflection of his past.   
The woman on the stage was clearly Satine. 


	2. In the Wings

N He stole back to her dressing room when the curtain fell for intermission. Christian was expecting her to weep with joy and rush into his arms when she saw him there.   
He was in for a rude awakening.   
  
The Satine that sat at the heart-shaped vanity table with the gold-framed mirror was much changed. Her hair, that sweet, rich red hair he'd so loved to touch, was now gold. When she heard the door open, Satine spun around on her chair and gasped. "Christian! What are you doing here?"   
To hear her voice again...it sent shivers up and down Christian's spine. "Satine...you're alive."  
"You shouldn't be here, Christian. You know I can't see you anymore."  
His heart fell along with his face. "Why?"  
"I can't."  
"Satine, I thought you loved me."  
"I thought I did too."  
"Then why can't you see me anymore?"  
"Because love is a waste of my time."  
Christian was speechless at this distorted woman. "Why didn't you tell me you were alive?"   
"I couldn't. Christian...you must understand."  
"Forgive me, Satine, I don't. I thought you were dead, Satine! I thought..."  
"My death was an elaborate scheme, if you will." Satine replied, her voice cold. "To get me away from the Duke. I didn't die that night after Spectacular, Spectacular. When they took me away from you, Chocolat took me down to a room underneath the Moulin and there Marie prepared me to leave. We didn't tell you. Christian, please, understand this. I wanted to save you from the Duke. And I did, didn't I?"  
"I still don't understand."   
"Christian," she cleared her throat and started to sing. "I'm a bitch, I'm a tease..."  
"No, Satine, you're not." He whispered, staring into the eyes that were now greenish.  
"I'm a bitch, I'm a mother, I'm a child, I'm a lover." She continued, spreading color over her cheeks.  
"You don't love me anymore?" His eyes were cloudy and hard to read.  
"Christian...I'm just a whore." She said before singing again, "Nothing's right I'm torn...I'm all outta place, this is how I feel..."  
Christian began to sing. "Time is never time at all...you can never ever leave without leaving a piece of youth."  
Satine paid no attention, trying to harden her heart. "Believe...believe in me. Believe that life can change, that you're not stuck in vain."  
"You and me, we used to be together...every day together, always." Satine sang, ignoring Christian's words.  
"We're not the same, we're different, tonight! We'll make things right, we'll feel it all tonight..."  
"No, Christian. Not anymore."  
"Believe in me as I believe in you tonight." He continued, not listening to her pleas for him to stop.   
"You're only in for heartbreak." She sang.  
"I don't care, I don't care..."  
"Let's end it on this, let's end it on this! It's over..." Satine's voice was featherlight.   
She doesn't love me anymore. It is over. There isn't anything to keep me here. And Satine isn't herself. She's changed, Christian thought. "I am barely breathing, and I can't find the air. Don't know who I'm kidding, imagining you care." He sang.  
Satine didn't reply.   
"Don't leave me this way...I can't survive without your sweet love, oh baby, don't leave me this way." Christian was using the words he'd used that magical night on top of the elephant.  
"Like anyone would be, I am flattered by your fascination with me. Like any hot blooded woman, I have simply wanted an object to crave..."  
"I wanna see you and me singin' love songs...together singin' love songs."   
"But you, you're not allowed. You're uninvited...an unfortunate slight." Satine sang, pouring her heart into her words. But a secret part of her was holding back.   
"How do you numb your skin after the warmest touch?" Christian sang to her, reaching out to touch her hair. She moved away. "How do you slow your blood after the body rush? How do you free your soul after you've found a friend? How do you teach your heart it's a crime to fall in love again?"  
"Like any uncharted territory, I must be greatly intriguing. You speak of my love like you've experienced love like mine before. But this is not allowed...you're uninvited."  
Christian continued his song. "Oh you probably won't remember me, I'm probably ancient history."  
"Christian, don't."  
"I'm one of the chosen few who went ahead and fell for you."  
That stung. Satine shook her head, hoping to get rid of Christian soon. This was going to ruin her performance for the night.  
"I'm out of vogue, I'm out of touch, I fell too fast, I feel too much. I thought you might have some advice to give on how to be insensitive." The look in his eyes bored holes in Satine's heart.   
"Christian, go. Please. You're setting yourself up for heartbreak."  
"You want me to act like we've never kissed, you want me to forget."  
"Christian, intermission is almost over." Satine said. "Love is just a lie."   
"You tell me to find someone else to love, someone who'll love me too, the way you used to...but now, I've realized I was crazy for lovin' you."  
And with a slam of the door, he was gone. And Satine was alone, shaking and sobbing quietly on her chaise.  
  
When she took the stage again, he was nowhere to be seen. Somehow, Satine found the strength to finish the last act and put a smile on her face even though her heart was screaming. "Why did I tell him I didn't love him? But Harold said it- we are creatures of the underworld. We can't afford to love. No, we can't. And though I will try to rise above my past, right the wrongs, I'll always be Satine, the Sparkling Diamond. A whore. But I can't put love before my career. I can't let anything stand in my way."   
  
"I was a fool to believe she loved me." Christian fumed to himself. "She never did. It was just a ruse. An act." He exited the theater through a back door and left the place Satine cared more about with a taste of bitterness in his mouth.   
  
  
When Satine returned to her small but comfortable flat that night, Marie greeted her at the door. "He asked for you all night," she said as if reading Satine's thoughts.   
"Is he asleep?"  
"Sound asleep. How did it go tonight?"  
"Awful." Satine threw off her coat and began undressing.   
"Why?"  
"Christian was there."  
"Did you speak to him?"  
"And I broke his heart." Satine dabbed at her eyes with a red silk handkerchief. "And mine along with it."  
"Oh, dearie girl." Marie pulled Satine close and let her sob into her shoulder as she had done when she was a little girl.   
When she had finished crying, Satine crept into her bedroom, not wanting to wake her baby. She peered over the edge of his crib and ran a finger over his soft, plump cheek. Gavin's dark hair was rumpled and he grasped his worn teddy bear. "Hello, sweetheart." Satine murmured to her two-year-old son. Christian's son. The child he'd never set eyes on.   
Gavin gave a little cry and opened his eyes. "Look who's awake." Satine cooed softly.   
"Mummy," he whimpered, holding out his arms to her. She lifted him out and held him close, savoring his sweet baby smell and humming softly.   
"Did you have a bad dream, little prince?"  
"Yes." He sniffled. "Is it mornin', Mummy?"  
Satine marveled at how fluent her son was with his words at only two years of age. He was Christian's son, that was for sure. "No, darling, it's not morning. It's very late, and Mummy needs to go to sleep."  
"Home tomorrow, Mummy?" He asked, yawning.  
"I'll be home tomorrow, pumpkin."  
"Good." Gavin yawned again and said, "Wanna rock, Mummy."  
Satine sat down in her rocking chair and kissed her son's forehead, moving back and forth in a slow, steady motion that lulled him to sleep. But before he slept, he whispered, "Sing, Mama."   
Satine's thoughts were full of Christian, and she sang the first thing that came to mind, then instantly regretted it. "If you knew," she thought, "that your father wrote this for me..." Gavin wouldn't know his father. Christian hated her. "My gift is my song," Satine sang softly to her son, "and this one's for you..."   
When Gavin was fast asleep, Satine laid him in her bed and curled around him for comfort. He was so like his father...the father she'd almost forgotten and would never be able to get back.   
  
"Where'd you go last night?" Stuart asked his friend the next morning.   
"I left."  
"I noticed." Stuart said dryly. "Why?"  
"Stuart..." Christian began. "Satine was there."  
"No she wasn't, Christian. Satine is dead."  
"She's not dead. I'm serious, Stuart, she's not."   
"Don't tell me; you went to see her and she ran back into your arms and everything's just peachy now, right?"  
"Wrong. She doesn't love me. I was so stupid for ever thinking someone like her could love me...or be loved. She's changed, Stuart."  
"And what are you going to do?"  
"What else am I supposed to do? I can't just leave her but I can't beg her to take me back. Besides, it's not worth it. I don't love her anymore."  
"You're fooling yourself. You love her and you know it. But if you want to, move on."  
  
  
"Do you want me to go out to the market, Satine love?" Marie asked, standing in Satine's doorway. She was lying in bed, Gavin by her side, reading him a book.   
"Mummy, can we go?" Gavin looked up at his mother with those wide blue eyes and Satine's heart melted.  
"Gav and I will go, Marie."   
"If you'd like to."   
The little boy grinned in delight and shut the book. "Let's go now, Mummy."  
Satine laughed. "First we should eat breakfast. Aren't you hungry, little prince?"  
"I'm always hungry."   
  
Satine bundled her son up in his little wool peacoat, a sweet red hat, mitten, and scarf set that Marie had knitted, and gave him a few coins to keep in his pocket. The child swelled with pride at being able to hold this small amount of money. "C'mon, Mummy, let's go!" He grabbed at her hand and was pulling her along before she'd even put on her mink-trimmed coat.   
"We're leaving, Marie!" She yelled into the apartment. "See you for lunch!"  
  
On this sunshiny January day, there were throngs of people at the bustling London market. "Hold tight to my hand, Gavin, and don't let go, all right?"   
"Yes, Mummy." He nodded solemnly, clutching his coin purse. Gavin's little eyes scanned the crowds and looked for the candy stand, his favorite. "Can I have some candy, Mummy?"  
"When we're finished." Satine said absently, inspecting a tomato. She was so engrossed in this menial task that she didn't notice Gavin slip away, lured by a red balloon. "All right, sweetheart, let's go get you some...Gavin? Gavin, where are you?"  
  
Christian wasn't a fan of huge crowds but he needed food, so he headed towards the busy London marketplace. Today, the bright flowers and things that usually cheered him considerably just depressed him. All day long, he'd been replaying his scene with Satine over and over again. Why had she changed like that? Could three years do that to a person? Well, it had obviously changed Satine.   
Christian walked by a statue and heard a sniffling noise. It sounded like a child crying. He'd always felt awkward around the little ones, but something in the noise drew him closer. Behind the statue sat a small boy who looked remarkably as he had at that age. The boy's blue eyes were full of tears and he hiccupped every minute or so.   
"What's wrong, little lad?" He asked.  
"I lost my mummy!" The boy sobbed. "Can you help me find her?"  
"What does your mother look like?"  
"She's pretty."  
"What color is her hair?"  
"Yellow."  
"Do you remember what she's wearing?"  
"A pink dress..." The boy couldn't have been more than two yet he had a very extensive vocabulary. "And a fur coat."  
"What's your name? What's your mummy's name?"  
"My name is Gavin. My mummy's name is Tine."  
Christian held out his hand to the youngster, who was carrying a small coin purse. The little boy took it and toddled alongside him. "Can we get some candy?" He asked in his small voice.  
Christian bought the boy a bright colored lollipop and Gavin licked it with fervor as the two, hand in hand, scouted the streets for the mysterious "Tine."   
  
"Have you seen a little boy in a blue coat and a red hat?" Satine asked every vendor, anxiousness in her voice and in her eyes. Where was her son? Her sweet baby son was gone...all the vendors shook their heads, all except the candy-stand woman with the plump rosy cheeks. "I saw the little boy go with a young man...they were looking for his mother."  
"Which way did they go?" She asked, frantic.  
The woman pointed and gave Satine a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, darlin'. They'll find ya."   
  
A woman with long golden hair and a pink dress swept in front of them, and Gavin yelped. "Mummy!" He cried, letting go of Christian's hand and running towards her.  
Satine heard his voice behind her. She spun around and caught him just as he flew towards her. "Gavin! Oh, sweetheart, you're all right! Where did you get that lolly?"  
"He gave it to me." Gavin pointed towards Christian, who stood alone, watching.   
  
Christian watched as the little boy reunited with his mother, whose face was partially hidden by Gavin's small body. She turned as though to say something to him, and when he caught a glimpse of her face, his breath caught.  
"Christian!" She gasped.  
  
END OF CHAPTER 2  
  
Oh yes, the songs I used in their medley were:  
  
"Bitch" by Meredith Brooks  
"Torn" by Natalie Imbruglia  
"Tonight, Tonight" by the Smashing Pumpkins  
"Don't Speak" by No Doubt  
"End it on This" by No Doubt  
Some song-I don't know what the title is....  
"Don't Leave me This Way" from ELM (don't know who sang it...Thelma something)  
"Uninvited" by Alanis Morrisette  
"Love Songs" by the great and almighty Fleming and John, who I strongly urge you to check out  
"Insensitive" by Jann Arden  
Something by Patsy Cline 


	3. Act Two

3: Act Two  
  
She was going to run to him, going to throw her arms around him and whisper "Come what may" into his ear, going to tell him that Gavin was his child...she was going to do so many things. But Satine was unable to move.   
"Thank you." She whispered after finally finding her voice.   
"It was what anyone would have done in these circumstances," he said coldly. "Goodbye, Mr. Gavin. Goodbye, Satine."   
Christian turned and walked out of her life.  
  
  
"Mamma, do you know that nice man?" Gavin asked, swinging Satine's arm and licking his lollipop.   
"I did, once."   
"He bought me a lolly."   
"That was kind of him." Satine smiled at her son softly before beginning to scold him. "Gavin, you know never to let go of my hand when we're at a busy place. I don't want you to ever scare me like that again."  
He sniffled a little. "I'm sorry, Mummy."   
Gavin looked so like Christian at that moment that Satine's heart melted. She pulled her son close to her and kissed him fiercely. "Mummy, you're hurtin' me." He squirmed from her grasp and returned to his candy.   
  
Christian could not forget the boy. He was so like himself at that age...but no, Gavin was not his son. This complicated puzzle's pieces didn't seem to fit together. Gavin couldn't be his child.   
Why had Satine done that horrid, hateful thing to him in her dressing room? Couldn't she see that fate had brought them together and now fate was tearing them apart? Hardening his heart was hard, so hard...  
  
The next night, Satine was preparing to go onstage when Millie, a small girl who had often helped Satine with her costumes, knocked timidly on the door and handed Satine a huge bunch of red roses. "For you," she said with a small curtsey.  
"Thank you, Millie." Satine dismissed the stage maid and searched the bouquet for a note, a card, anything that would lend a clue to the donor. The only sign was a lollipop nestled among the roses.   
  
"Christian." He heard a whisper behind him.   
How do you block the sound of a voice you'd know anywhere? Christian thought. He turned and saw her behind him, blue eyes overflowing with tears.   
"I got your flowers." Her voice filled the room with its featherlight tone.   
With volumes of words passing between their eyes, he left his seat and she flew into his arms. Her hands traveled through his hair and traced the curves of his lips before she laid her own upon them. She kissed him hungrily and he kissed her back ten times more intensely.   
She pushed him away, holding his arms and looking deeply into his eyes. "I'm sorry, Christian, so sorry."  
He made no reply, just kissed her harder and began to fumble with the laces of her dress.   
  
The room was foggy with the heat of their passion. Satine lay back on the pillows, loving each minute, dizzy with ecstasy and feeling Christian tremble inside of her. Her name on his lips was like music...Satine was aware of nothing but their lovemaking, nothing but the way she felt when she was with him. "Christian..." she moaned, shuddering with orgasm after orgasm. Only he had this affect on her. Only he could make her feel like this.   
  
  
"The angel opens her eyes...pale blue colored eyes." Christian sang when Satine finally woke. He had been watching her for what seemed like hours, simply watching her sleep. She was beautiful in sleep. Her golden curls were divinely soft and fragrant, spread across her pillow like they were.   
The rain was quietly falling outside, the sky grayish and Christian's apartment illuminated with golden lamplight.   
Satine smiled and turned on her side to face him. "Good morning." She curled closer to him and sighed in complete bliss. "I haven't felt like this in ages."  
They lay silent for a while, listening to the rain pattering on the roof.   
"Why did you change your hair?" Christian suddenly asked.  
"So I would be less recognizable." She answered. "Why? Don't you like it?"  
"I like it red much more."  
"I do too."  
Christian wanted to ask her who Gavin's father was. He wanted to ask her why she had pretended not to love him. He wanted to ask why she had tricked him into thinking she was dead. He wanted to ask if he was sleeping with a ghost. But he kept quiet.  
"It was so the Duke couldn't find me, if, per say, he didn't believe in my death." She continued. "Oh, Christian, I didn't mean to hurt you this way. It was for the best."  
She could feel him stiffen and move away from her. When he spoke, his voice was pained. "Do you know the hell I went through, Satine?"  
"Christian..." she stroked his face and kissed him lightly, but he turned away.  
"Go away, Satine. Go away."  
"Christian..."  
"I SAID GET OUT!" He roared.   
She did so, leaving the bed and hastily throwing on her dress. "Goodbye, Christian."  
He said nothing.   
She shut the door and tried not to weep as she headed home.  
  
Rain was fitting for her mood. She locked the door to her bedroom, lay on her bed, and sobbed.   
"Mummy? Are you in there, Mummy?" Gavin's little voice came from the keyhole. "Can I come in?"  
"No." She snapped.   
"Mummy, are you all right?"  
"Just go away, Gavvie."   
"Okay, Mummy." The little boy whimpered.  
Now I've made my son think I hate him, Satine raged at herself. I can't go onstage tonight. I cannot. She sighed. I have to put on a smile and pretend everything is just wonderful even though that's just a lie.  
  
There were no lollipops that night. No flowers. Nothing from Christian to signal that he was sorry. Satine blamed herself. If only she hadn't let Harold and Marie talk her into deceiving Christian like that. If only she hadn't been so insensitive. If only...but if onlys were useless now.   
  
He was playing the scene over and over in his head. Why did he have to scream at her that way? It wasn't completely her fault. Stupid judgmental Christian. He kept seeing the little boy's face...how had he not known?   
  
He sat down at his typewriter and began to write. The words hit him like a mallet and he tried not to cry while he wrote.   
"Oh no, I see,  
I spun a web, it's tangled up with me,  
And I lost my head,  
The thought of all the stupid things I said,  
Oh no what's this?  
A spider web, and I'm caught in the middle,  
I turned to run,  
The thought of all the stupid things I've done.  
I never meant to cause you trouble,  
And I never meant to do you wrong,  
And I, well if I ever caused you trouble,  
O no, I never meant to do you harm."  
  
He clicked away, thinking all the while of Satine. The most beautiful Diamond Dog of them all...the Sparkling Diamond..."The French are glad to die for love..." The smell of absinthe...her kiss...the Duke...Spectacular Spectacular..."The girls, they call them the diamond dogs..." Images and words of his past life flitted through his subconscious, making him dizzy. He wanted nothing more than to lay down right there and die. Die like Toulouse. Die like the real Satine had died.   
Oh no I see,  
A spider web and it's me in the middle,  
So I twist and turn,  
Here I am in love in a bubble,  
Singing, I never meant to cause you trouble,  
I never meant to do you wrong,  
And I, well if I ever caused you trouble,  
Although I never meant to do you harm.  
They spun a web for me,  
They spun a web for me,  
They spun a web for me."  
Christian closed his eyes and, against his will, thought of her.   
Chapter 4 (and probably final chapter, too) up soon. Promise. 


	4. Finale

Chapter 4  
  
  
"Mamma, am I a bad boy?" Gavin crept into Satine's bedroom where his mother was lying facedown upon her bed. He crawled up beside her and placed his little hands on her back. "Mamma?"   
Satine looked at her son, her face stained red from crying. "No, darling, why do you ask that?"  
"Mummy, you look different." Gavin looked up at her with incredulous eyes as though she were a goddess and said, in his sweet British accent, "You look pretty."  
Her hair was again red.  
  
There was a letter on her doorstep when Satine returned home from the theater that night. "The Shopkeeper's Daughter" had finished its successful run, and she'd been praised as "London's bonny Daisy." That was what they called her. Daisy. She was now working on another play, this one a drama entitled, "For the Roses." Satine played Isabelle Rose, the tragic heroine in a play that was much like her story with Christian.   
Eagerly she tore it open and read the contents. In a slanted, decidedly male script, these words were written:   
"Satine,  
I don't know what I'm supposed to say or how I'm supposed to feel. You must forgive me for my outburst those few days ago. It was unreal, seeing you there at my door, looking like a ghost. Still I can't believe that you're actually alive.   
Fate is a strange thing. It can bring us together or tear us apart. And I hope it isn't doing the latter.  
I'm leaving London.  
Christian."  
  
On feet of air, Satine raced to her desk, tore a sheet of paper from the desk, and began to write.  
"Christian," she began in her careful, looping cursive,  
"I had no choice but to hear you. You stayed in your case time and again. I thought about it. You treated me like I'm a princess; I'm not used to lying in bed. You asked how my day was...  
You've already won me over in spite of me. Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet. Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are. I couldn't help it; it's all your fault.   
Your love was thick and it swallowed me whole. You're so much braver than I gave you credit for.   
You are the bearer of unconditional things. You held your breath and the door for me. Thanks for your patience.   
You're the best listener that I've ever met. You're my best friend...best friend with an effect. What took me so long? I've never felt this healthy before. I've never wanted something rational. I am aware now...I am aware now.   
You've already won me over in spite of me. Don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet.  
Satine."  
  
  
It was time. Time for a new beginning, time to move on. Christian had packed his bags, given the landlady the keys to his flat, said farewell to the few people he had cared about in London. He was going to leave. Where? He didn't know. He would be transient, moving from place to place. It was clear she wanted him to go. She didn't want him in her life anymore. But oh, how he wanted her in his.   
Looking about the empty flat, Christian envisioned her there in the doorway, her only word the whisper of his name.   
She had been so beautiful.  
So ghostlike.  
Had it all been a dream? Was this just a crazy Absinthe-inspired flurry?   
No.   
It was real.  
  
"For you, Sir." A young boy in knicker pants and a jaunty cap woke Christian from his reverie.   
"Thank you." He took the small parcel from the boy's hands and gave him a few coins.   
"G'bye, Sir." The child took the money greedily and raced down the flights of stairs.   
  
It was a letter. Written in an all too familiar hand that had once scribbled secret notes to him. Scented with that musky rose-vanilla perfume she always used.   
It was written in a sort of prose. Something he understood completely. She wanted him back. She wanted to start over again. Wipe the slate clean of all the past wrongs and right them. She wanted to love again.  
  
"Why are you acting so giddy, Satine?" Marie cornered her adopted daughter in the hallway of Satine's apartment.   
"Oh, nothing, Marie." She giggled and floated away like a lovesick schoolgirl, leaving Marie standing there utterly confused.  
"She's up to something..." Marie muttered.  
  
He couldn't find the courage to leave. Christian stayed. He stayed for her, for Gavin, for himself. Mainly for himself.   
But he didn't call on her, didn't see her or her son in the market though he searched in vain for them, didn't write her another letter.  
He walked at midnight.  
They'd done that often.  
She did the same thing.  
  
Late at night, after Marie and Gavin were soundly asleep, Satine would rise, dress, and leave her apartment. She would walk London's empty streets, humming to herself in a dreamlike state. "I go out walking after midnight just like we used to do..."   
Satine stumbled upon a children's playground. With a small whoop of joy, she ran to the swing and sat down upon it, pushing herself until she could touch the magenta-flowered chokecherry trees with her feet.   
It felt like flying.  
  
There was someone at the playground. Someone who was only a flash of vivid blues and deep, rich reds. He approached tentatively, not wanting to frighten the flying skirts and embarrass the poor woman. Christian hid (he'd never been good at hiding) pathetically behind a tree and watched the soaring figure on the swing.  
Wait.  
He'd seen that gorgeous creature on a swing before.  
"Satine," he breathed, captivated as she slowed to a stop. In the moonlight, her ivory face was blue-tinted and her cheeks were flushed. Those azure eyes sparkled with childish delight while she laughed to herself and whirled about the trees, doing a mad waltz with an imaginary partner.  
"May I join you, Mademoiselle?" He asked, revealing his poor hiding place. She gave a little gasp and stopped dancing, dropping her hands quickly to her sides and looking down at the ground. She kicked a pebble with her shoe and avoided meeting his eyes.  
"Having fun?" He continued.  
She nodded shyly and again looked down. Christian lifted her chin so her eyes were locked with his. "Dance with me."  
"We have no music," Satine protested feebly.  
"Has that stopped us before?" With his wide grin, he took her hands and hummed a Strauss tune, matching his steps to hers.  
They waltzed without speaking for several minutes, neither knowing quite what to say. But after nearly ten minutes had passed, their dancing became clumsier and ridiculous. Both were weak with laughter when they'd finished, looking like two inexperienced teenagers at their first party.   
Christian impulsively pulled Satine to his chest and kissed the top of her head. "I love you," he whispered.  
She pulled away, took his hands, and looked him straight in the eye. With a quavering voice, she whispered, "Gavin is your son," and fled in a flash of blue skirts and flying red tresses.  
He stood alone underneath a white-blossomed apple tree, staring at her fleeing figure in the moonlight.   
  
The next night, he searched in vain for her at the playground. She wasn't there. No one had heard anything from London's bonny Daisy...not Marie, who was caring for Gavin when Christian stopped by to see his child (who was unaware that the nice man was his father). No one in her theater troupe had heard anything from her.   
She'd just...vanished.   
  
"Meet me in the red room. Lock the door and dim the lights."   
That was all that was written on the tiny slip of paper he'd received in the mail. The Red Room. The elephant. The Moulin Rouge.   
Impulsively, not caring what the consequences would be, Christian took the first train to Paris. The first train to her.  
  
  
It felt almost foreign being back there after what had seemed like ages. The Moulin Rouge was just a reflection of what it had been. Nothing looked the way she'd remembered it. Satine swung open the doors that creaked loudly in protest and stepped inside the dark, dusty dance hall. Her feet, elegantly clad in brown leather heels, left marks on the once-shiny floor. It almost made her cry, seeing her beloved Moulin Rouge gone to pieces like this. There were bird's nests in corners. Tables and chairs were dilapidated and the majestic murals on the walls were beginning to fade.   
And the elephant...fortunately, the elephant had been saved. Satine smiled softly, remembering how stupid she'd acted, rolling around like a crazy woman and screaming while Christian read his poetry. "How wonderful life is..." she whispered to herself. Her footsteps echoed throughout the great empty hall as she walked up to the Red Room. She lay on the dust-covered bed and looked up at the sky, thinking of her life prior to Christian, prior to Gavin, prior to everything that was so important to her now.   
  
When he saw the footprints leading to the elephant, his heart nearly jumped into his throat. The lights were on in the elephant. Satine was there. He quickened his pace and almost ran up the stairs, through the legs, and to the stomach...the Red Room.   
"Satine! Satine, my darling, my love..." He raced to her side and swept her into his arms.  
She didn't pull away. She didn't act coldly. Satine responded eagerly to his fevered kisses. She pulled away for a moment, gasping for breath, and looked him in the eyes. "I love you." She whispered.   
And, with all his heart, he whispered back, "I love you too."  
  
THE END  
  
(Aww, wasn't that sweet?) 


End file.
